Hold Me Closer in the Circle of Your Arms
by irridescentsong
Summary: They'd known it was coming. They had carefully counted down the weeks, and months until it came again. They were only off by two days this time. Two whole days early, and it honestly caught them by surprise. - Omegaverse, filthy language abounds.


They'd known it was coming.

They had carefully counted down the weeks, and months until it came again. They were only off by two days this time. Two whole days early, and it honestly caught them by surprise.

Mycroft'd had to come home early from work it was so bad.

He'd had Alphas trying to bang down his highly secured office door - all scrabbling for a chance to fuck him. He'd been sent home under strict instructions to let no one near him until Greg got home from work. Those instructions, of course, came from none other than his loving Alpha as it were.

He'd spent half the day, lying on the couch, rag over his face, trying to calm his jumpy emotions. Every sound that did not come directly from him or his general vicinity was scrutinized and he checked the alarm system close to 30 times in the span of 4 hours. When the alarm system finally did disengage, somewhere after 7 o'clock, he was primed and ready.

His arse had been ready for hours since the heat overtook him, and he was dripping at the thought of Greg in him once again. It wasn't his fault that Omega's rarely had sex outside of their heats.

Greg came in from the door practically rending the clothes from his body, shedding them like bad memories. Even though Mycroft wasn't fertile (an occurrence in Omegas that was 0.5% of their race, when Omegas only made up 5% of the actual population), he still had heats, and they made sure to enjoy every single one of them. The overwhelming need to sink his cock into Mycroft's body was something that he fought dearly, because it would involve some roughness that he knew Mycroft didn't deserve. But the hormones surging through his body were too much as he stalked over to the man, and pressed him down into the couch, inhaling deeply at the junction of neck and shoulder.

"Fuck," he growled, "you fucking want it, don't you? Smelling like that."

His head was torn in two; one part wanted him to just hold Mycroft down and fuck himself into oblivion. The other part tried to remind him that he'd never act like this under any other circumstances. The hormone-driven portion of his brain won out, and he was slipping his hand down to push roughly against Mycroft's hole, sinking two fingers in easily, meeting nearly no resistance.

"You fucking want my cock, don't you?"

Mycroft nodded, biting down on the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger, and pushed his arse higher into the air, fucking himself of Greg's fingers. He didn't trust himself to speak, or he knew he'd only speak in the language of begging - the key to Greg's (and his) undoing.

Greg pushed a third finger into him, spreading them softly at first, then rougher, forcing Mycroft's greedy hole open as it continued to swallow his fingers whole. "That's it. Why don't you fuck yourself on my fingers a bit? Maybe if you're good, I might be arsed to get you off as well," his voice gone deep with arousal. Or I might not be. Not sure yet," he teased, thrusting his fingers in and upwards, reaching for the very edges of the shell of muscle there, knowing it wouldn't ever hold his child, but still overtaken by emotions enough to make him still want it. "Your arse is a greedy little cockslut, isn't it, Mycroft? You just want to be thoroughly fucked like a good little Omega don't you? You filthy slut." He couldn't stop the stream of words coming from his mouth now, and knew, deep down, that it wouldn't be long before Mycroft broke under his hands, begging coming to the forefront.

"Maybe I shouldn't fuck you. Maybe I should just plug your needy hole with something and let you stew in that room of yours, and forget about you. Would you want that?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

Mycroft stiffened bodily, his arse seizing up around the finger's in him. "No, nononono, please don't do that, Gregory, pleaseplease don't do that. I want you in me, need you in me, please, make me yours. I know I'm a greedy little slut, but I need you. Need you in my arse now. Please." He broke in the most enjoyable way possible, and Greg loved watching him come apart under and around his hand. Roughly he yanked his fingers from Mycroft's body, and fitted himself against the curve of his arse, hard prick digging up against and into yielding flesh. He pushed into Mycroft's begging body, and slid straight into him until he was fully inside him.

"You're such a slut for my cock. You should see the skin of your hole, stretched tight around my prick, just swallowing it up. Fucking god, Mycroft, you should see it."

"Tell me about it. I'm a cockslut and I want to know what you see. Please Gregory, love, please, tell me more," he begged, never begged so hard in his life, hands on the arm of the couch, arse in the air, every thrust into his arse sending him into the arm of the couch.

Greg brought a finger to touch at the skin stretched around his cock where he was still thrusting roughly in and out of, hungry for each inch more that Mycroft cold take of him. The skin protested slightly when he slipped the finger in alongside his prick, and he crooked his finger to pull it away from his cock, allowing air to get it. "It amazing how much this arse of yours can take, Mycroft. Fucking amazing. I bet I could fit my hand in there as well. Do you think I should try?" he asked teasingly, lining a second finger up to curl around the muscle there, and pull back gently.

"Fuck. Oh fuck." It was all he could manage with the visual in his head, Gregory's cock in his arse, his hand in his arse as the same time. His small, soft prick, lying nestled in his pubic hair bounced at the thought, and he bit down on his hand again, assuring himself he would not beg for that.

Greg leaned over the curve of Mycroft's back and thrust his nose into the crook of Mycroft's shoulder and neck again, raising his face slightly to whisper in his ear. "Should I take it easy on you, love? Or are you going to be that greedy and swallow me up, hand and cock at the same time?" He bit down roughly on the swell of muscle on Mycroft's shoulder, sucking roughly to leave a mark, marking him as a taken Omega. He would make sure that mark stayed there until Mycroft's next heat if he had to. He was angry that others had come around what was his, and he'd kill to keep them away.

"I-I can take it, Gregory," he practically moaned out around the flesh in his mouth. "But please, please get me off. I need to come. Please."

Greg smiled widely against the skin of Mycroft's shoulder currently occupied inside his mouth, and wrapped a hand around his lover's small prick, jerking it roughly upwards, while curving a third finger around the stretched muscle of Mycroft's arse, settling it first in the negative space between the muscle walls and his cock, then letting it fall down to an untouched portion of skin, and pressed back gently.

Mycroft moaned loudly against the hand on his prick, bucking both forwards and back, caught between two very different sensations, and it caused him to throw his head back, nearly colliding it with Gregory's, and bared his throat, a sign of the submissiveness built into his race.

He sped up his actions, bucking his hips forward, into Greg's hand, his own clenched tightly into fists, one stifling the stream of words threatening to overtake him, the other gaining purchase on the slippery soft leather of the couch beneath them.

Greg entered the fourth finger against Mycroft's hole, stretching it out further now, one-handedly, and pulled back so that he could see his cock disappearing further into Mycroft's body, and was wanking Mycroft off with his other hand, finger tips softly caressing Mycroft's sac, until he punctuated the air with a string of curses and came against the leather of the sofa.

He could feel his knot engorging with blood, and it sparked a whole new line of thought in his brain (amazing, really, when all he wanted to do was fuck himself into oblivion and make this man carry his children [physical impossibility, can't be done]) and he switched gears from sticking as much of his fingers into Mycroft's arse alongside his cock to breaking him down again.

"You want that heavy big knot in you don't you? I'm going to come inside you so far, and my knot is going to keep it all in, and make you carry my children. You know you fucking want it, don't act like you don't, you greedy slut." He brought the hand that had previously been grasped around Mycroft's prick to his mouth, licking it clean, and thrust his fingers in front of Mycroft's face, stating for him to suck perfunctorily.

Again, Mycroft was caught between two sensations, fucking himself on Greg's nice hard cock, or sucking down Greg's fingers, knowing where and what they'd been doing just minutes ago.

Greg redoubled his thrusts into Mycroft's body, knot swelling with blood, until he could no longer see anything but the warm hole he was slipping in and out of, imagining the fingers slipping in and out of Mycroft's body, and he stiffened slightly, enough of a warning to thrust fully back in, groaning out endearments and curses in the same breath, and pulled himself out and thrust back in as far as he could go before the orgasm took him, his knot swelled to its fullness, and Mycroft's body seized around him, both their heads thrown back in a soundless 'o' of pleasure.

"S-so fucking good to me, Mycroft," Greg said, regaining his breath.

Mycroft smiled against the sofa arm, and began to shuffle backwards on his knees awkwardly, until he could manipulate Greg's and his own bodies into cooperating, and turning on their sides, knot keeping them together on the couch.

Greg's body had finally been milked of its first round activities, and he lay shuddering behind Mycroft, a shaky hand in the soft ginger curls.

"Fucking love you. Just in case you didn't know," he said softly, Mycroft's body wringing another orgasm from him and his body stiffened, relaxing somewhat after about three minutes.

"I know you do. It hardly needs to be said that I love you also," Mycroft retorted, a smug grin on his face.

"Still nice to hear it," Greg shot back, calm for a minute before stiffening up again.

It continued that way for a bit longer until Greg's knot released them but they were both content to snuggle on the couch, bodies sated for the time being.

It wasn't more than 6 hours later they were raring to go again, Greg taking him over and over again to sate the burning desire of him neediness and hormones, and continue on over the course of the next 72 hours until the madness of the heat was gone, and they were free to return to their regular daily lives.

It didn't bother him that Mycroft couldn't have kids. It used to bother him, because that desire of his heat was the desire to make a family.

They worked through it, and Greg always looked forward to the times where Mycroft turned from his political ways to the greedy little cockslut he loved.


End file.
